for example
wingbeats
Not a moment to explain the horrors to his wife not even to describe the bride’s
white
fur
handwarmer
torn to shreds
the lightly traveled pathway sprinkled with a curly bloody mess
diagonally the man cut through the clearing opened up the door and grabbed his wife and told her that they had to leave at once because their sons were coming home.
This wanting to identify the man was
Drawing a halt to this accelerating period of remembering was a woman on the train who sat across from me. I had no memory of her physical appearance or possessions but I vividly remembered some of what
This wanting to identify the man was overtaken by the physical necessity in seeing my apartment building stop itself from smearing blurring fading fast because of being chased around so rapidly repeatedly by us.
a couple of the woman’s thoughts.
It now occurred to me that this might be a good occasion to review take stock of things I’d done things not done things I’d seen or speculated even playing back my
I will finish dinner take a rest then go back up to 6 then down to 3 to have a look around I told myself.
The first real difference
he explained
(Night Five)
the three of us still standing in the ENTRANCE
MAIN
was in the phone calls. Starting two days after they had seen him for the last time day or night at least one phone call came. Nobody spoke no sound no numbers visible on the caller identification screen. Gradually they noticed the duration of the calls decreasing. At the same time it became more troubling to receive one. She especially had found these calls from no name calling from no number so upsetting that he had requested that if she could not see
He said Any numbers on the
I agreed immediately she interrupted.
Our discussion of this subject was confined entirely to the
ENTRANCE
MAIN.
A birdcage hung behind her. By her feet there was a little wild eyed dog that although seated clearly saw himself as runner digger upper. She did not look shy though in her face particularly in the way her eyes appeared to gaze into the eyes of someone something just behind the painter. There was in her bearing true respectability. The room in which she posed a cheerful parlor with a window casting light onto the birdcage bars looked busy although stationary. Crowded. Costly. It was typical of the kinds of portraits meant to celebrate a life of privilege not accompanied by an unappealing temperament. However paired with all this pleasantness there was if one knew where to look mysteriousness. Her dress was gray with mauve the roses giving off a hint of something lurking in the shadows of the folds. Up near her shoulder was a brooch depicting in a silhouette a long haired male or female profile every facet of the brooch edged delicately in the tiniest purple gemstones. On the wall behind the birdcage was a roughly detailed drawing of a child. To see this portrait of a woman was to feel compelled to turn look over one’s own shoulder then to turn again look closely at the child.
Canary in a cage.
The fireplace grate.
I was awakened by a shrill distressing sound. A cry.
Then falling again into a kind of
One night when the moon was full a girl was taken away to a lagoon.
As I was nodding off I
Once again I slipped
Her naked body first was painted red then decorated thoroughly with yellow lines white dots and on her head she wore a sacred ceremonial object fashioned out of sticks.
I heard a crash. Door slamming. Stomps. Another crash.
Some noises are almost impossible to trace much less interpret. I decided to rely on my first understanding of the cry: distressing sound. I could not say if it had come through wall or ceiling
floor. I just looked over at the clock. I waited for another one to come.
The second most important difference she explained
the three of us still standing in the ENTRANCE
MAIN
between this last time and the other times before
While I expected I would feel her hand slip into mine I did not feel it.
was the feeling all throughout not just the house throughout the whole estate as soon as he had left.
The road becoming gloomier
instead of heading to the park he nonetheless advances certain that he took a wrong turn somewhere.
Where?
Impossible for him to understand such unkind limitation total desolation deep despondency heart racing panic tempered by a head to toe exhaustion making a mess of his interior conversation part in pictures partway uttered
swallowed up by breaths that he can almost see
It’s getting cold.
he feels that he is dropping to his knees
What’s doing this?
right on the sidewalk right there on the
No not there!
but he’s not stopping
has continued walking
flying
tipping
feeling of a body shackled by a paralyzing arm or neck injection lying motionless enclosed within a body that cannot stop moving
Has to get there.
walking
Has to go.
The night we met we all went back to their estate. It was an invitation I accepted gladly even though I have a policy against accepting rides when I am working.
It was long. They had been talkative at first but things got quiet as the way grew darker sending us into something far more rural
You have questions?
deeper.
When I first began to see the narrowing of his eyes in
Is he falling
Is this whole car falling
glimpses of the rearview mirror I began to dare myself to take increasingly longer looks into the mirror
disappearing eyes
I
Am I going down or is it is it possible that I am actually going
Yes my dear I will endeavor to tell you everything I know.
It was the turn onto a gravel road that woke me up.
We entered through the gate continuing on the gravel drive until we parked.
I nearly could remember something someone said.
We got out stood there looking. Much too dark to see their home with any kind of clarity but I could feel that it was massive. I could sense the deep impression of despondency was lessening within me. At the same time I confirmed a certain blackness swelling from inside. I looked back at the car then followed them into what he called the ENTRANCE
NOT THE MAIN ONE.
Turning back to look again I thought I saw a figure seated in the backseat of that car.
Impossible.
Impossible I told myself.
He said You first.
We started up the STAIRCASE
MAIN.
Then came the other cry.
The girl who had been decorated held a sharpened bone in each one of her hands.
Another crash. Wind hitting at the window.
I looked at the clock got out of bed turned on the floor lamp put my coat on boots stepped out into the hallway when a man was passing by.
I wanted so to turn look at the man
Don’t look at him.